


the amazing adventures of boyangman

by fieryrondo



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: (Not), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Don't copy to another site, Gen, PyeongChang 2018 Winter Olympics, Work In Progress, Writing Exercise, the level of ooc-ness is directly proportional to my emotional investment in the skaters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18829075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryrondo/pseuds/fieryrondo
Summary: Boyang’s coach always did say he had great jumps.





	1. 跳

**Author's Note:**

> "Let's write a superpowers au!" says the writer who's only watched one Marvel movie ever.
> 
> My pet project while I try to break El cisne's hiatus. I may/may not be continuing this because heaven knows that I need more than one WIP to manage. 
> 
> *Leaves all good writing at the door*

They’re nearly at the shuttle stop when Wenjing stops dead in her tracks. A small “ah” of devastation escapes from her lips.

 

“I left my mascara by the sink.”

 

There’s a contemplative pause as they all let this revelation sink in. Cong checks the time.

 

“But the bus—" Cong falters when he’s beset with the full strength of his partner’s beseeching eyes. “Can’t—can’t you just borrow some from Yu?”

 

A hand on her hip. “We use _totally_ different brands.” The punctuated remark is lost on Cong who only blinks in befuddlement. Given the ungodly hour they had had to be up for gala practice, their breakfast was more rushed than usual, and poor Cong still hadn’t had his daily dose of caffeine yet.

 

“I’ll get it.” Boyang offers before Wenjing can launch into an impassioned speech about how the subtleties of one’s makeup were as sacred as the customizations of one’s figure skates. “Eighth floor right? The third window from the south side?”

 

“Second,” Wenjing corrects before worrying her lip. “You don’t have to—”

 

“Competition’s over, so it’s okay,” Boyang reassures her.

 

“I think Cong forgot to lock the window, so just push on it.” Wenjing gently squeezes his hand.

 

Boyang surveys the building, making the necessary calculations as he judges the distance and height with a practiced eye. He bends his knees. Shoulder shimmies.

 

Then he leaps onto the eighth-floor balcony.

 

Boyang’s coach always did say he had great jumps.


	2. 冰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...still have no idea where I'm going with this.

Somehow they make it on time without breaking anything. Wenjing has her mascara. Cong is so happy to have gotten his coffee fix that he forgets himself and floats off during the last group choreographic run-through. Meagan finds him hovering next to the jumbotron and offers Wenjing a hand in hoisting her wayward partner back down to earth. Wenjing gratefully accepts. Meagan hoists Wenjing on her shoulders and they coax Cong to levitate himself down toward them.

 

“I do the throwing, not the other way around.”

 

“Such a scaredy-cat, you jump all the time,” Wenjing says to her partner. She flips her head, thoroughly unimpressed.

 

Eagle-eyed Eric gives a shout of warning, exactly five seconds before the frame gives way to gravity and the metal beam Cong is clinging to dislodges from the Jumbotron. The Chinese skater sinks like a stone.

 

The beam clatters, beautifully shattering the surface into a thousand pieces. Yuzuru, who’d been happily communing with the ice in the fast, intimate language of 360 degrees, bursts into tears. He cries on Shoma’s shoulder, only to fall fast asleep. The crow sitting upon Junhwan's shoulder heaves a sigh. It’s not the first time.  

 

Satoko, all Jedi poise and grace, floats the two off to the bleachers but the damage has already been done. Their choreographer suspends practice until they can clear the ice. 

 

The Zamboni driver shows up, ice bucket in hand and surveys the wreckage, his lip curling.

 

A pipe bursts. Tessa's hair is on fire while she searches for her missing partner. Somewhere, an alarm in the building rings.

 

The vein in the Zamboni driver's temple twitches and nearly bursts until Javi, seemingly appeared out of nowhere, taps his shoulder and presses a warm drink into his hand. 

 

Bless Javi.


End file.
